


End of the World

by Melodious329



Category: Captain America - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Thor - All Media Types
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Omega Verse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-21
Updated: 2016-02-21
Packaged: 2018-05-22 10:50:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6076563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Melodious329/pseuds/Melodious329
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve comes down with an unexplained illness and hides it, worrying that the serum is failing.  But it may not be an illness ?</p>
            </blockquote>





	End of the World

**Author's Note:**

> This is omegaverse, but alphas and betas are not spoken about and omegas are not known to Earth society. Hopefully, it all will make sense in the fic :)
> 
> This also occurs after the first Avengers movie, as if the superheroes had all moved into Avengers Tower afterwards. I haven't seen Captain or Thor or Avengers 2 or any of the newer movies, yet.

Back from his daily morning run, Steve heads straight for the kitchen on their communal floor. There’s a headache pounding behind his right eye. Since the serum, headaches are normally the result of dehydration, or a good knock to the head, so he immediately pours himself a large glass of milk, drinking it before he even remembers to close the refrigerator. This headache has been on and off for three days now, only getting worse with time. 

Steve hasn’t told anyone about it. He doesn’t even want to think about it, much less talk about it. Because the reality that he doesn’t want to face is that there’s a problem with the serum. It was just an experiment, he is an experiment. Nobody could know the effect that all these years, that the ice, could have, and it has kept him alive far past the point of reason. 

“Steven!” Thor announces himself cheerfully. 

Steve chokes on his mouthful in surprise just before Thor claps his huge hand on Steve’s shoulder, leaving it there. Ducking his face, he wipes at his face with his sweaty forearm in embarrassment and barely remembers to close the refrigerator door. Not many people dare touch him nowadays, but Thor never treats him differently, always pushing into his space with casual ease. But Steve can’t be grateful for that friendship when he’s too busy feeling ashamed for his more than friendly thoughts toward the alien. He’s always awkward around people now but it’s always been worse when his heart is involved, though Bucky isn’t around to tease him for it still. 

He’s pulled out of his melancholy thoughts when that large hand pulls him closer, Steve’s shoulder butting into the hard plan of Thor’s chest. “You must take me on this morning run sometimes,” the Asgardian says the word run like it’s some strange ritual. “But now, I have another question about the internet.”

Finally, Steve pulls his attention away from his own reactions long enough to see that Thor is holding a laptop, looking miniature in his huge hand. Steve nods absently and stumbles into a nearby stool when Thor doesn’t let go, but he manages not to spill the last gulp of milk. Thor returned to Earth about a month ago, six months after his brother…well, after the alien invasion. Thor brought news of another alien threat, though so far there’s been no sign of it. But the Asgardian stays, spending most of his time learning more about Earth with Steve. It makes Steve feel less alone, with Thor just as clueless, sometimes making even Steve feel knowledgeable. 

But his headache makes it hard for Steve to focus on the screen and what Thor is explaining. He scrunches up his forehead as the artificial light and bright colors seem to assault his eyeballs, drilling like nails into his already pounding head. Closing his eyes, Steve digs his knuckles into his eye sockets, tries to dispel the feeling but nothing helps. As he blinks, the changing screens are even starting to make him nauseous.

“I do not understand why this does not open…” Thor is saying when Steve stands up abruptly, fighting not to teeter. 

“I’m sorry,” Steve stutters out. His tongue feels thick and it’s a fight to sound as normal as possible so as not to concern his teammate. “I need to call SHIELD…I forgot,” he says, already stumbling half out of the room. He was always a terrible liar and can only hope Thor attributes his clumsiness to haste. 

Steve literally runs into Tony as he flees up the stairs to his own room. The jolt makes the nausea rise up his throat and he can’t stop to apologize. Tony does a spin at the rude behavior but continues towards his goal of the coffee machine in the kitchen. 

Tony can’t help but notice Thor’s disappointed face, though. “Don’t worry, Big Guy,” he soothes in between sucking down caffeine. “Cap just likes to be alone, to pine for the moral fortitude of the forties.” Tony waves one hand about while the other begins to stuff cold pizza in his mouth when he notices Thor’s laptop. “You need help?” he asks with his mouth full. 

Thor seems to have entirely forgotten his laptop as he distractedly answers. “Yes, Steven was showing me…”

“Lemme see,” Tony demands wiping his hands on his jeans. His hands fly over the keyboard, too fast for Thor to understand and the Asgardian’s shoulders begin to slump downward. “Wow, you really need a software update. Good thing you’ve got me,” Tony grins, completely unaware that Thor isn’t following.  
(*(*(*(*(*(*(*(*(*(*(*(*(*(*

Holding onto the wall with one hand, Steve makes it back to his rooms. His only thought is to lie down before he throws up so he buries himself under his comforter without thought for anything else. 

“Jarvis,” he calls out, his voice muffled. “Please, can you turn off the lights? And maybe, can you make sure it’s quiet?” He always hates to ask the AI to do things for him, like a servant, but he’s desperate now.

“Of course, Captain Rogers,” the robotic voice answers quietly. 

Steve can only exhale in relief as the lights dim beyond the security of his covers. There still aren’t any medicines that work on him, and, for a moment, he finds himself in the strange position of missing the days before the serum. All he can do is rest and wait out the pain. 

Eventually he sleeps, and the nap does make him feel better, the headache not as severe when he wakes. Slowly, he stretches his limbs out from where he had been curled in the fetal position. The absence of pain suddenly feels good, better than good. He exhales again, drawing a hand down his chest, still clad in only his tshirt from running. At that simple touch, his skin pebbles and his nipples peak. He rubs at them absently, thinking of Thor’s hand on his shoulder this morning. 

Thor is fascinating. An alien and yet so human with his boundless enthusiasm and curiosity. He’s always willing to lend a friendly ear, and is never embarrassed at asking for help. His blue eyes, strong bearded jaw, those huge hands…Steve’s own hands drift further down his body, rubbing his inner thighs through his thin sweatpants. But as his hands drift further, he unconsciously avoids his straining dick, reaching further back…

“The others are gathering in the communal area to watch the movie now,” Jarvis’s voice intrudes in Steve’s cocoon of pleasure, stopping his hands. 

Slowly, Steve re-emerges for their weekly pizza and movie night, sitting up cautiously so as not to aggravate his headache. By the time he has had a quick shower and change, the others are already eating. They pay Steve no attention as he enters the common area, except for Thor. Steve feels hot and flustered as those stormy blue eyes focus on him. Thor is the only one who is always genuinely pleased to see him. The Asgardian smiles wide and claps his hand on the seat next to him on the couch in invitation. 

Steve can’t resist, and he sits down where indicated, without a second thought for the other end of the couch where he would normally be, forgetting about everyone else, about the pizza and the movie…

“We are having pizza with pineapple and ham,” Thor tells him, handing Steve his full plate of different types of pizza. 

Steve tries to sputter out a protest that he is capable of getting his own food, but Thor is already up filling another plate. Looking down at his plate, Steve feels embarrassed, stubbornly resistant to the idea that he can’t manage for himself. But he also feels strangely pleased, pleased that Thor would care enough to do that for him. 

Not looking back up, Steve begins to eat with his usual gusto. This has been the same since before the serum. He has always been hungry and thirsty. The doctor said it was from the diabetes before, now from the serum. But today, his stomach rebels, beginning to cramp as his chewing slows. His guts feel like they’re being rearranged and a pain like a knife in his lower back is making itself known. Sucking in a breath, he tries to be subtle as he shifts on the couch but plasters a closed mouth grin on his face as Thor sits back down. 

“What movie shall we witness tonight, friends?” Thor asks just before he shoves most of a slice into his mouth. “I greatly enjoyed the last one about being hungover.” Thor laughs as he launches into a story. “I recall a time when Fandral had drunk so much mead…”

“Alright, Lancelot,” Tony interrupts. “You can tell that story some other time…when I’m drunk,” he adds, taking another swig of beer. “Jarvis, hit the lights.”

The lights dim and the screen comes to life on a bright blue screen. But it doesn’t hold Steve’s attention as Thor puts a warm hand on his knee and leans towards him. “I will tell you the tale after, for it is nearly as funny as that movie,” Thor says quietly. 

Steve jerks at the unexpected touch, the hand hot through his khaki trousers as he tries to smile. He is flattered to be singled out as Thor’s confidant, though he may be the only one who listens to Thor’s stories. But his smile comes out more like a grimace from his discomfort. 

Thor’s expression becomes concerned and he looks down at Steve’s plate, still half-full of food. But fortunately for Steve, the movie begins then, the screen lighting up with something called Mission Impossible and Clint shushes them from the armchair he’s sprawled in. Turning his face away, Steve swallows a sudden excess of saliva and presses his head back into the couch, trying to focus on the movie and Tom Cruise. 

Thor turns back to the movie as well, though a frown carves a crease between his eyebrows. And eventually, after about an hour of Steve clenching his teeth, the pain eases or maybe fatigue simply sets in. Long lashes blink furiously as he tries to stay awake. It’s a lost cause, as after a few false starts, Steve falls asleep, slumping toward Thor on the couch, his plate still on his lap. Cautiously, Thor takes away the food, but putting it on the coffee table attracts Tony’s attention. 

“God, he really is allergic to fun, isn’t he?” Tony asks, glancing over. “Who falls asleep during a Tom Cruise movie?”

Natasha snorts in derision of Tony’s choices. “Everyone. Why do we always have to watch these ridiculous movies?” she whines. 

“Hey, I resent that,” Clint pipes up. “I may be a spy, but this is still a great movie. Nothing like how I would do it, but…”

Thor smiles at their antics and forgets his worry for the moment as Clint continues to tell them exactly how he would have completed this mission and Natasha derides him and Tony just shouts over the two. But it’s not until the lights come back on and the others are scattering that Steve starts to wake. 

Inhaling deeply, Steve nearly gags at the suddenly strong smell of grease in the air. It feels much like just after he was given the serum and every sense was overwhelming, the smell of other people, the bright lights, the new colors, the feel of his own clothes on his skin. But there is another smell underneath the pizza and he unconsciously leans toward it before he opens his eyes. It smells like a fire in winter, wood and spices and the tang of carbon and fire.

Thor watches as Steve slumps toward him further, prominent pecs rising with another big breath before sky blue eyes open. Startling at how close he’s moved to Thor’s chest, Steve jumps causing his back pain to flare back to life. Steve stifles any noise of pain but can’t stop his forehead creasing. 

“Sorry,” he says quickly, a word that he says a lot around Thor. But his apology only puts an answering frown on Thor’s face. “I just…I guess I’m tired,” Steve explains, standing and stretching his back, not that it helps. 

“It is still early,” Thor begins but then he shakes his head and stands. “Tomorrow, I would be honored to spar with you again. You are quite a worthy opponent,” he flatters Steve with a smile

Steve hesitates. Sparring is normally his favorite activity as he’s desperate to learn as much as possible. And he doesn’t have anything else to do, missions with SHIELD have slowed since Thor’s news. He just feels awful, achy and tired. But he didn’t let that stop him before the serum and he won’t let it slow him down. 

“Sounds great,” he says before he can stop himself. It’s worth it for the way Thor beams at him, and for the escape it gives him right now. “Tomorrow morning after breakfast,” he confirms as he begins to walk away. 

He doesn’t escape the pat on the back that Thor gives him, hand sliding down the sculpted planes of his back that feels like a brand, sweat suddenly popping out all over his skin. Unsure what’s happening, Steve quickens his pace and then slams the door of his room behind him. 

But his sudden hot flash doesn’t end. He’s sweating like he only really does in the middle of a battle and his soft clothes suddenly irritate his skin. It feels like night sweats, like the fevers tuberculosis gave him that left him exhausted and even skinnier. His chest suddenly feels tight, though that might be in Steve’s mind, in his memories of coughing up blood. 

“Jarvis, can you please lower the temperature ten degrees?” Steve asks politely even as he’s stripping off his tshirt. “And start a cool shower?” Steve remembers the treatment for fever on autopilot, like the serum never happened. 

He hasn’t been hit with any strange or alien or experimental weapons since the Chitauri. It’s been all regular bullets and stun weapons and explosions lately. He knows it’s more likely something wrong with the serum and there’s no one living who knows anything about the process. Maybe the tuberculosis is coming back? How long until the rest of it follows? The anemia and diabetes and asthma?

Stepping naked under the spray, Steve doesn’t stifle the surprised cry of pain at the feel of the water pelting him like tiny shards of glass. It reminds him vividly of freezing into a block of ice, of lying on the floor of that plane where he’d been thrown as the icy water rushed over him, covering him until he could no longer breathe, until he no longer felt the cold, until he could no longer move at all. 

“Captain Rogers, is everything all right?” Jarvis’s robotic British voice asks. 

Grasping at the handrails on either side for support, Steve answers automatically. “Steve,” he corrects the AI breathlessly, thankful for the timely interruption of his ensuing panic attack. “I’m fine. Thank you.”

“Let me know if I should adjust the temperature,” Jarvis replies. 

Steve doesn’t reply. Hunching in the shower spray like a much smaller man, he forces himself to endure the cool water for ten minutes before he steps out. With locked muscles, Steve stumbles over the step out of his shower. Simply touching the towels rough surface convinces Steve not to bother drying off. Within moments, he feels hot again, sweaty and irritable. Wiping a frustrated hand over his face, he crosses to the bed, throwing the covers to the floor in a messy heap. 

“Did you turn down the temperature, Jarvis?” he pleads. 

“Of course. It is now 63 degrees, sir,” the posh voice assures him. 

Steve feels too tired to argue, though he would like to turn it down a further ten degrees. Instead, he turns on his side, loosely curled into the fetal position. The pain in his back has migrated into his abdomen, just below his belly button. Breathing slow and deep to reassure himself that he still can, he feels like Jarvis is watching him which he hasn’t felt since he first moved in. 

He falls into a disturbed sleep, a frequently woken by either pain or strange dreams about Thor. The kind of dreams where he wakes up hot and sticky and humping the bed. It’s not that he has never fantasized about the handsome thundergod, but these are so specific that he doesn’t know how he will be able to spar with Thor ever again. He can practically feel the wetness back there, his buttocks feeling slippery with sweat, an ache someplace that he’s never touched before. 

He determinedly doesn’t touch himself now. Around five, he’s too antsy to stay in bed any more, no matter how tired he is. He still feels sweaty but the cramping has mostly subsided so he has a quick shower and puts on clothes for a run. The early morning is cool, but it doesn’t help. 

Pure stubbornness completes the run. It feels too much like before the serum. The anemia, tuberculosis, and diabetes making him tired. Everyone, the doctors, bullies, Bucky, and even his mother when she lived, asking him constantly if he was fatigued, if he needed to rest. It makes him set his jaw as he reenters the Tower. 

His legs feel like gelatin though, and he has to lean against the wall of the elevator that takes him up to the living quarters. When the elevator dings, he rushes out only to immediately collapse against the wall of the hallway in dizziness. 

“Are you all right, Captain Rogers,” Jarvis’s voice interrupts Steve’s attempt to get his bearings. “Should I call for assistance?”

“No, Jarvis. I’m all right,” Steve answers and to prove it he pushes off the wall. 

He’s taken a few steps, gaining confidence when Tony hurries down the hallway towards him. 

“Ooh, wet tshirt,” Tony teases him. “Nice nipples, stud muffin,” he continues with a friendly punch to the shoulder. 

But today the punch sends him careening back into the wall like he’s that 90lb weakling again. 

“Geez, old man. It was just a joke,” Tony explains defensively, raising his hands palms out. “I won’t touch the property of the US government again.”

In a snit, Tony stalks off to the elevator, leaving a horrified Steve behind. Ice water has settled in Steve’s veins despite his sweating and Steve knows what ice feels like. The serum is failing. He always knew that was possible. And he won’t be further experimented on, but he hates to lose this, this potential, this place on a team. Maybe he’ll start aging, turn into the 90 year old that he should be. He can’t regret what happened on that plane back in the forties, he would do it again, but…

“Steve,” Thor announces, scaring Steve into a heart attack. “We are all ready to go downstairs to the gym. How was your run?”

Finding it absolutely impossible to speak, Steve lets his mouth hand open like a fish as he pliantly lets Thor pulls him close and walk him to the elevator. Thor doesn’t seem to realize how he’s practically tucked the supersoldier under his armpit, not releasing him even as he reaches out to press the button for the gym’s floor. 

“Are you alright?” Thor queries as the elevator doors close, trapping them together. “You feel warm.”

Swallowing, Steve can smell that delicious smell again and slowly it relaxes him. “Fine,” he eventually grunts. “Just…the run.”

He knows that he needs to tell, they all deserve to know but he can’t bring himself to, not yet. He just wants this for a little while longer. The elevator dings and Steve is surprised to see Clint and Natasha waiting for them. Clint is stroking his fingers down the elegant curve of his bow as he says, “Finally. You two ready?”

Natasha looks at him suspiciously though and Steve averts his eyes from her gaze. “You haven’t sparred recently, Cap. You feelin’ okay?”

“Course,” he stutters out, knowing how weak his reply is. 

But she doesn’t call him out on his obvious lie, just grabs his arm, pulling him towards the mat like she’s making a point. “Then you won’t mind starting out with little old me. Surely that won’t be a challenge.”

He supposes he could resist but it doesn’t occur to him until Thor releases him, allowing her to pull Steve away. He’s feeling hot again, dizzy and nauseous with it and the last thing he wants to do is spar, but he doesn’t want to disappoint her, or Thor. He doesn’t want to disappoint himself. A bead of sweat drips down the left side of Steve’s face as he brings his hands up defensively, his blonde hair dark and wet, hanging over his forehead. As soon as he settles into his stance, she’s attacking. It catches him off guard, his head  
swimming as his eyes try to track her movements. He reaches out to swat her hands away, a rookie mistake that leaves him open for a hit to the chest. 

Natasha presses her advantage as he stumbles back as Thor moves closer to the mat, concerned. When her next kick sends Steve face first into the mat, Thor begins to intervene, but he’s interrupted by the building’s SHIELD alarm. 

“We’ve got alien ships breaching our atmosphere,” Maria Hill’s voice informs them. 

Steve manages to get his knees under him and shouts for Jarvis. “Jarvis, alert the team!” he yells breathlessly. “Avengers Assemble!”

He ignores how all three of his teammates are now staring at him in concern, ignores Thor still standing nearby as he stands up and limps toward their locker room. Thor’s face hardens in disapproval as he follows, stalking after the other blonde. He’s just opening his mouth when Tony bursts in, the red metal of his suit flying around him already like large fireflies. 

“What’ve we got, Cap?” Tony asks, good-natured despite the crisis.

“Don’t know yet,” Steve answers as he hefts his shield. “Could be Thor’s warning,” Steve pauses to look over but can’t meet the thundergod’s eyes, stopping instead around Thor’s indignantly puffed out chest. 

Thor’s mouth is still open when everyone rushes from the room, fully suited. 

“Jarvis has spotted something,” Tony informs him.

Steve has only seconds to wonder when they became a real team, when did he earn their trust, since when has he trusted Tony’s data more than SHIELD’s. Then he’s struck by how much he’s going to miss this. His chest suddenly hurts and he rubs it absently, unable to tell whether it’s physical or emotional. 

But despite any pains, physical or otherwise, Steve turns then towards the fray, barking out orders over the comms. He sends the two airborne Avengers, Thor and Tony to the sky to discover the source, Clint to higher ground as a sniper, while he and Natasha take to the streets against these armored invaders. 

“Clint, Cover me!” he says as he begins striding down the street, one eye keeping track of the Black Widow’s progress. He trusts her as a member of his team, but he is all too aware of her and Clint’s vulnerabilities. 

But his own strength is failing. He ends up on the ground more than on his feet, but just like before the serum, he always gets back up. He stands for a moment, his blood roaring in his hears, his lungs burning with the effort of trying to breathe, just breathe…

“It’s a distraction,” Tony snaps, but his voice sounds so far away. “The alien Thor warned us about…” 

Steve doesn’t hear the rest. He makes a mistake, throwing too much of his weight into a blow with his shield that leaves him off-balance and vulnerable to an arrow that embeds itself through his shoulder. With a shuddered intake of breath, he falls onto on knee, looking down the street that has become a battlefield. At the end, a figure emerges from the destruction. 

Staring finally at the face of their enemy, he see a man draped in robes of black. He cannot tell it is not human by looks, but assumes it is an alien. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Natasha taking cover behind an overturned vehicle. She catches his eye and gestures that she has a clear path. But he can’t let her. They don’t know a thing about the strengths of this alien or his powers, and he can’t let her take that risk. Wounded and weak, Steve may not be very super right now, but she never needed a serum and will continue to fight long after the serum leaves him useless. 

Shaking his head at her, he staggers to his feet, not bothering to remove the arrow as he starts off at a slow jog. With a practiced twist, he throws his shield to catch the man’s attention, but the man snatches it out of the air, just before one of the armored minions collides with Steve, taking him into the pavement hard. 

Rolling free, Steve gets to his knees as hears the man’s deep chuckle. “This is your so-called Captain then?” a deep voice queries. 

Still having some pride, Steve stumbles to his feet only for the next hand to come down on his already injured shoulder with searing heat, literally a burning touch. He can’t pull away from the strong grip, can only sink to his knees as the smell of his own burning flesh fills his nose. His vision is whiting out when he’s released the sound of the alien’s laughter filtering through the pain. 

Steve grits his teeth and stands again, determined not to show weakness, not to look down at his ruined shoulder, the tatters of his uniform hanging down his chest. But Steve isn’t prepared for when he’s suddenly grabbed and pulled in close. The alien’s expression changes, long face turning pensive instead of smug, and then he leans in close, breathing in the supersoldier like he likes the smell of burning meat. 

Just as suddenly the alien throws his head back to the sky as he taunts, “You sent me your bitch, Asgardian? You want me to mate him here in front of you, watch as he begs for it?”

All of the Avengers look confused except for Steve who looks murderous as he tries and fails to pull out of the man’s grip. The arms are implacable as his chin is gripped and he’s forced to look up into dark eyes that are suddenly greedy. He’s reeled in even closer and hot breath gusts over his face at the closeness. 

“This one is beautiful. And he smells…ripe,” the alien trails off. 

With horror, Steve finds he has to remind himself to resist the body that he’s pressed against. He feels hot again and strangely aroused as he’s wrapped up in strong arms. He doesn’t want to pull away and lose this touch. 

Understanding dawns hard on Thor’s face, the only one to show sudden understanding, and he suddenly moves away to rush to Steve’s aid. “Thor, don’t!” Tony yells. “That’s the distraction! Steve won’t thank you if you save him but let this guy win.”

Reluctantly, Thor stays, taking out his aggression on the nearest minion so that Tony can get back to work. Half of his attention stays on Steve though, so he doesn’t see the looks exchanged between Clint and Natasha as the Black Widow creeps closer with arrows clearing her path. 

But even Natasha’s is suddenly shocked to watch as that hand slips down to grab a handful of the Captain’s ass. What is shocking is the way that Steve’s body falls limp in that defiling grip as Thor roars out his outrage. But the Asgardian can only watch as Steve’s limp body is cradled close, his head lifelessly rolling on his shoulders, as that hand violates Steve further.

“God, you are a pretty one…” the alien murmurs, his own gaze unfocused with lust, right before an arrow plunges up through his skull. 

Steve stumbles back, releasing the makeshift spear as the body falls. He’s covered in blood and swaying on the spot. Nothing stops Thor from rushing to him now, not even Tony who curses and scrambles to finish. Steve’s knees are folding as Thor hits him bodily, his hands all over the supersoldier. But Thor isn’t checking Steve’s injuries as he spins the soldier around and pushes him into the nearby wall face first. Steve doesn’t resist as he’s pressed into the unforgiving concrete, doesn’t want to as long as Thor’s body is pressed against him. 

Tony’s shout of indignation is loud when he secures the artifact only to find all of his colleagues are more focused on the two blondes. Irritated, he flies down to the street as Thor’s hands pulls Steve’s pliant body away from the wall, crawling up Steve’s belly to his chest and up to his shoulders... 

The pitiful whimper of pain from their Steve forestalls Tony’s tirade and seems to cut through Thor’s curtain of lust. Thor isn’t gentle as he jerks away as if scalded and then thrusts the hapless captain at the red and gold machine. 

“What…?” Tony sputters as he tries to be careful with their injured leader. 

“Take him away,” Thor bursts out, but then modulates his tone. “Take him back to the Tower and lock him in his room. Don’t remove your face mask and don’t…touch him,” Thor finishes. 

Tony looks at the panting, sweating super-soldier and asks, “Is he sick? Shouldn’t SHIELD doctors…?”

“Tony!” Thor commands and the god’s voice makes even a Stark go quiet.

“Alright,” Tony whines petulantly, pulling the sick man closer. “Can you hold on?” he asks Steve. 

Steve responds by taking his usual stance on Ironman’s right foot though he’s staring back at the Asgardian. With a confused shrug, Tony takes flight. By the time, they land at the Tower, Steve is shaking with exertion and Tony has to carry him inside to his rooms. 

Once laid on his bed, Steve begins struggling to take off his uniform, nearly insensible from whatever is happening to him. 

“Alright, alright,” Tony mumbles to himself as he helps pull the costume down the toned torso, taking care of Steve’s still ruined shoulder. “Never thought I’d have the opportunity…”

But Steve doesn’t stop tugging at his clothes until they are down over his hips and Tony pulls them off those mile-long legs. But Tony can’t help seeing and staring at in shock, Steve’s massive erection. It’s so unexpected Tony can’t look away, perfect, like everything about Steve, but so engorged with blood as to be almost purple, a vivid contrast to the rest of Steve’s porcelain skin. 

“Thor,” Steve whispers, plaintive and soft. “Thor.”

“Hey,” Tony tries to soothe, already removing the face plate and then the gauntlets. He assumes Steve is looking for his teammates, needing to see a familiar face. “It’s Tony. You’re gonna be ok, Cap…”

He puts a comforting hand on Steve’s uninjured forearm and Steve blinks open dazed blue eyes. Come to think of it, Steve’s movements don’t necessarily look like pain…Tony’s dark eyes sweep over Cap’s enlarged pupils, his openly panting lush mouth, his sweaty heaving chest, squirming hips. 

Tony doesn’t notice as his hand moves of its own accord to Steve’s rounded pec, cupping it as Steve blinks at him and starts making a soft, rhythmic noise. Staring at his hand as if it doesn’t belong to him, he runs his palm down Steve’s vulnerable side, watching as the perfect abdominals clench and then down to the cut of Cap’s hip…

With a sharp inhale, Steve suddenly rolls his hips up, bringing his knees to his chest. So flexible, opening himself so Tony can…

Tony stumbles back, eyes wild as he realized he was about to molest Captain America while Steve is sick. Moving back, he can see Steve’s writhing is more distressed. Steve starts to call out for Thor again just as Tony is stumbling out the helpfully open door. 

As soon as the door closes, leaving Tony in the crisp white hallway with its clean air, all Tony wants is to go back in, to be with Steve. Taking an aborted step forward, Jarvis suddenly interrupts his single-minded thoughts. “I’ve locked Captain Roger’s room, to everyone,” the curt British voice informs him, sounding icy to Tony though he knows he didn’t program that. 

Tony almost blushes in response, but his embarrassment doesn’t stop him from hesitating another minute at the door before leaving for the common area. The others are surprisingly already there, Thor still dressed in armor and pacing the floor as the others perch on various furniture, as if they’re afraid to get comfortable. 

Thor suppresses the urge to growl. His every cell is telling him to protect the injured man as Steve’s whimper of pain plays on repeat in his head. 

“What’s wrong with him?” Tony demands. “He looks…” the sentence goes unfinished, unable to explain what Cap looks like. 

“What did that thing do to him?” Clint follows up, jaw clenched tight in memory. 

“Done?” Thor repeats, momentarily confused. “It’s not an illness. I’m surprised it hasn’t happened before now.”

The team shift restlessly and Thor starts over. “The Captain is in estrus, I believe you call it. Presumably it is a side effect of the serum. ‘Pinnacle of human ability’ wasn’t it?”

Tony nods dumbly. “So you’re saying the pinnacle of human perfection is what? A hermaphrodite?”

The whole room goes quiet at the pronouncement. “I do not know that term,” Thor finally says quietly. “Most of the time Steve can impregnate women as a human male does, but some periods he can also bear children. It is an uncommon occurrence in Asgard, but it exists.”

“Oh my God,” Tony is the first to speak, falling back onto the couch. “No wonder he looks like that, he is literally meant to entice everyone.”

Natasha rolls her eyes. “To clarify, he’s not sick?”

“He just needs to fuck?” Tony interjects. 

Thor is still wound up and he replies stiffly. “He is in no danger, though from my brother I know it is not pleasant to go through alone.” Thor stops pacing for a moment as a frown forms between his eyebrows. “Normally Loki…there would be symptoms beforehand, headaches, dizziness, cramps.”

“Captain Rogers has been experiencing symptoms for the past week,” Jarvis suddenly pipes up. 

Tony sits up. “What?”

If the AI could have sighed, it is clear it would be doing so. “Captain Rogers began experiencing migraines a week ago, then cramping and lack of appetite, fatigue and dizziness.”

“Why didn’t you tell someone?” Clint bursts out. 

“I assumed you also observed,” Jarvis answers simply and even Tony looks chagrined. 

Thor’s hands clench in the couch cushions and he hangs his head, cursing himself anew. 

“He’s still injured,” Clint speaks up carefully. 

“He was calling for you, buddy,” Tony says, twisting his neck to look up at the Asgardian. “Maybe you could help a teammate out.”

Thor scowls and goes stiff. “I would not couple with him when he cannot consent.”

Tony makes a dismissive hand gesture but Thor’s eyes turn to the Black Widow instead. “As a woman, you would not be affected. Perhaps, you could check on Steven’s injuries.”

“Just because I’m a woman, I’m not a nursemaid,” Natasha states simply. 

“Well, in this situation,” Clint says smugly. 

“Just to bring him water,” Thor implores. “Please, check on him.”

Natasha just sighs.  
*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&

Steve pants as he writhes on the bed, still on top of the comforter. He feels too weak to move, his skin scorching hot all over, the pain of it almost as sharp as his healing shoulder. There’s an ache deep in his abdomen that’s spread to all over his lower body. 

He feels like he might be dying, a feeling he’s not unfamiliar with, though after the serum he stopped thinking that it end like this, sick in bed, alone. Now there’s not even Bucky, no one to comfort him at all. 

Where is the team, he wonders. He thinks he remembers that no one was injured in the battle, but he can’t quite remember everything. He knows they’re not close, no Howling Commandoes, but will they really leave him here alone?

“Thor,” the name comes unbidden to his lips, a hoarse plea. The mere thought of the Asgardian causes Steve to grind his hips back into the bedding, searching for something…  
But it only makes the ache worse. Willfully, Steve turns over onto his side, bringing his knees up and trapping his hands between his sweaty thighs. Why doesn’t Thor come?  
As soon as the thought forms, he chastises himself. Why would Thor come? He can’t imagine Thor being interested, despite Steve’s no-doubt obvious hapless crush. But he can remember the crush of Thor’s hard body against him…can’t he? But that doesn’t make sense because then why would Thor leave him to suffer like this? Steve clenches his thighs harder around his thighs and waits.  
*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&

Natasha sighs as she hesitates outside Steve’s door, several water bottles in her arms. But then the door opens, Jarvis’s subtle prompt. Whatever she was expecting to find after Thor’s explanation of estrus though, this isn’t it. 

Steve is naked, that was a given, glassy-eyed and panting but his huge form is curled up in the fetal position and his large eyes are dark and miserable. Wet blonde fringe is stuck to his forehead and his cheeks are pink, flushed from fever. He looks nothing so much as a sick little boy and she’s reminded of his extensive file. He’s only 24.  
Some of her earlier annoyance seeps away then and she deliberately walks over to put the bottles on the nightstand. His eyes sluggishly focus on her.

“Thor?” he asks, and she sighs. 

She knew the two blonde warriors had been dancing around each other, but now their ineptitude just seems sad. If only they’d pulled their heads out of their asses, this could have gone a lot differently.

“It’s me, Natasha,” she says, as if anyone could ever confuse them. “Mind if I take a look at your shoulder?”

She’s not waiting for a response, and she doesn’t get one. His injured shoulder is fortunately the one pointed to the ceiling, and he curls tighter when she touches him. It looks like raw meat, burned all the way to white bone in the center and something…a piece of arrow still inside. 

Quickly grabbing the medical kit that all the rooms have, she climbs on the bed with him. All around the wound is burnt and she starts there on the edges cleaning the wound first with sterile water and pads. He barely makes a noise of complaint and while she would expect Captain America to be stoic, now it is a measure of how terrible he already feels. 

She moves onto disinfecting and he clenches his eyes tightly shut and quivers, just a little. She takes advantage of his unknowing state to grasp the arrow shaft without warning and pull it free. Steve lets out only a tiny choked off sound but then starts panting in earnest, she can see his back heaving. 

“What’s happening?” he forces out the question through gritted teeth. 

This is one reason that she didn’t want to be the one to do this. “You’re going to be fine,” she stalls. Who knows how he’ll react when he can think again. “It’ll be over in a day or two.”

He moans then, still distressed sounding but also more sexual. Obviously embarrassed at his lack of control, he tries to push his face into the pillow. Taking pity on him, she tries to wipe the worst of the sweat and dirt from his face and neck. 

Getting more and more agitated, he flops over onto his back, his feet now flat on the mattress though his knees are still pressed together in a last-ditch bid for modesty. She sees his hands clenching in the sheets as if trying to hold on and she grabs a water bottle, uncapping it. She didn’t plan on actually feeding him like this but he doesn’t look like he can do it himself at this point. Increasingly desperate, eyes unfocused, he thrusts the back of his head against the pillows, uncaring at how the water then spills carelessly over the corded muscles of his stretched throat and chest. Still, he swallows most of the bottle before turning away, tossing his head on the pillow. 

“Thor,” he says, like the first time, like he can’t remember her being here at all. “Thor, please…” he begs and she suddenly doesn’t want to be here anymore. 

She swipes a soothing hand through his sweaty hair and lies. “He’s coming. He will be here soon.”

She’s not even sure he hears her as she goes to leave.  
*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&

Thor is waiting in the hallway as she comes out. 

“How is he?” he asks without preamble, eyes almost as wild as Steve’s. 

“He still asks for you,” she says and sighs, crossing her arms over her chest as he just hangs his head, wet tendrils of hair falling forward. “He’s pretty bad off, incoherent, but the shoulder wound will heal, thanks to the serum.”

“Thank you,” he says hoarsely, but he’s moving to stand very close to her. Thor takes a deep breath in through his nose. “You smell of him.”

She smiles but steps back deliberately. He turns to the wall that separates him from Steve’s room, pressing his hands there. 

“I should have realized something was amiss. I should have taken care of him.” He pauses to press his forehead to the wall. “I don’t deserve him.”

“I’d let Steve be the judge of that,” she quips. “You should have told him. And he should have told us he was sick.”

Thor leans back again enough to give her a rueful smile. “It is very like the Captain to hide it.”

She nods though she doesn’t have to like it. 

“In Asgard, this would be very special occurrence,” Thor continues, though half his attention is still on the wall separating him from Steve as if he expects it to disappear at any moment. “He would be given every luxury to get through this, every luxury.”

And instead he’s trapped in his room, confused and in pain. She doesn’t like to kick a man when he’s down though.  
*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&

After three days, Steve comes back to his senses enough to know that he feels disgusting and has a raging headache from dehydration. With shaking hands, he drains all of the bottles on his bedside table and then stumbles to the bathroom to drink out of the tap. Once there, he goes ahead and takes a shower, resisting the urge to touch himself again despite how blissful the water feels. He puts on some comfy sweats and strips the bed…but he can’t quite make himself leave the room. Instead, he sits heavily back on the mattress. 

He threw himself at Thor, his friend, his teammate. He’s pretty sure he begged for Thor. He would have let Thor do anything to him. He might’ve let anyone, he might’ve let that alien…

There’s a slow heavy knock at his door and he knows it is Thor without Jarvis’s announcement. Steve does not want to face the other man but he’s never been a coward. He  
needs to apologize. He stands up to open the door, but Jarvis helpfully unlocks it. 

“Thor, I…” he starts, but the sight of the Asgardian derails him. Thor looks almost as bad as Steve himself does. “Are you alright?”

Thor smiles ruefully and moves into the room to sit in the nearby armchair without waiting for an invitation. ”Should I not be asking you that question?” 

Stupidly, Steve drops back down to his stripped bed, a red blush making its way down his throat. He can’t help the nervous gesture of rubbing the back of his head with a hand as he steels himself to talk about it. “What happened? Did I get hit with something?”

But Thor looks far too serious as he leans forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “You were not. Jarvis tells us that you suffered the week previous. I noted that you were not eating but I did not realize…”

Steve’s blood runs cold, colder. He’d forgotten about his earlier fears about the serum but those thoughts come rushing back. But why would Thor be the one to explain it to him?

“You are not sick, Steven,” Thor gets to the point as he watches the dawning horror on the Captain’s face. “The serum has given you an estrus cycle, Bruce called them heats, during which you are capable of conceiving, to bear a child.”

“What?!” Steve asks, raising his voice in confusion.

“It is a rare and special phenomenon on Asgard. Some men who can otherwise impregnate females, also have periods when they can conceive a child, maybe 3 or 4 times a year,” Thor explains matter-of-factly. “It is preceded by the symptoms that you experienced, headaches, pain in your belly, dizziness…”

There is a personal quality to the way that Thor recounts the symptoms, a familiarity… “Loki,” Steve whispers in sudden understanding, “your brother.”

Thor’s smile is sad for many reasons. “Yes,” he answers truthfully. “So you see, I should have recognized the symptoms in you, I should have…It didn’t have to be so hard for you if I had seen.”

Steve shakes his head in denial of his friend’s obvious guilt. But Thor isn’t finished. “I admit I am confused though as why it is only how that it is manifesting. Do humans take this long to mature? Or perhaps it was the stress of the Great War? Is it that only now a male has captured your fancy?”

Steve’s sudden blush and sudden interest in the floor, make it clear the answer to the last question. “Ahhhh,” Thor slowly intones. “There is a man, then, whom you hope to spend your next confinement with?”

Steve turns red as a tomato to the tips of his ears and down into his shirt as he considers spending the past days with Thor. His arousal is still close to the surface and he shifts, trying to seem casual. “Thor, I…” he opens his mouth to apologize but he makes the mistake of looking up into those stormy eyes that seem so concerned for him. “It’s you,” he breathes. 

“It is me,” Thor repeats confused and Steve bites his lip at being forced to spell it out. 

“It’s you that I…like,” Steve stutters. “I like you, I mean, before all, all of this,” he flutters his hand to encompass this strange condition, the hormones that have him, even now, flushed with heat, squirming at arousal hardening his cock and slicking his sweats where he’s sitting. 

He’s startled by a hand on his face, gentle as it cups the line of his jaw. The smell of Thor hits him like a physical slap and Steve’s long eyelashes flutter before Thor leans in to kiss him. The scratch of Thor’s beard is just a bit painful with the desperate way they’re kissing, days of unfulfilled need on both of their parts. 

Steve doesn’t notice the noises he starts making, low plaintive moans, or the way his hands clench and pull at Thor’s tshirt. His mind is becoming hazy again, drugged, and he cries out in actual pain when Thor moves away. 

“Shhhh….” Thor soothes him, but his voice’s low growl and the hard grip he has on Steve’s face give away his own desperation. “Not now,” he murmurs, pushing each word out with effort. “I will wait til you can choose with your right mind.”

Thor strokes his thumbs over Steve’s sharp cheekbones and down to the corners of Steve’s full lips. Then he pulls away, pulling out of the grip Steve didn’t realize he had on the other man. “I will see you soon,” he promised. 

Steve smiles as the door closes behind the Asgardian and he wastes no time stripping out of his clothes again and lying back on the bare mattress. For the first time since this started, the arousal feels good, hot and indulgent, filled with the promise of pleasure. His hand skims down his sweaty front, skirting past his erection. His other hand holds his breast, thumb flicking lazily over the nipple as his other hand teases the edge of his wet hole. He doesn’t dip inside, content now to wait. 

Later, he thinks, later he’ll worry about the implications of this that don’t involve the promise in Thor’s eyes.  
*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&

The rest of the Avengers considerately wait until Steve has processed more, and talked to Thor more, and made dinner for everyone before they descend with their curious stares and questions. 

“It is an unconsidered aspect of the serum,” Dr. Banner remarks as he neatly eats the vegetarian lasagna. 

Tony snorts. “Yeah, you could say a man suddenly growing a uterus is ‘unconsidered’. Jesus, Steve, did you know anything about this serum before you let them inject you?”

“Not really,” Steve admits sheepishly. “They were going to inject someone…”

“And it might as well be you instead of some innocent SOB,” Tony finishes for him. 

Steve chooses not to respond to that. Clint speaks up instead, “So how does it feel to find out you have lady parts?”

It’s said flippantly but the mood of the room is serious, waiting to see if this new development will cripple him. Steve has thought about this a lot, what it meant for his sense of self, but he also thought about Peggy and how she was just as capable as a man and determined to prove it. He thought about Natasha and Pepper and his mother…

“Doesn’t feel any different,” he answers with that sincerity that makes him Captain America, that makes little boys run around using garbage can lids as shields when standing up to bullies in back alleys. 

He’s gratified when Natasha goes on eating as if nothing important transpired and he thinks she approves. The other men are less convinced. 

“Just you two use protection,” Tony says, waving his fork around and broaching the unspoken topic of the blondes’ relationship with his usual tact. “Being knocked up would put a real damper on saving the world. Also babies…in my Tower…” Tony gives an exaggerated shudder. 

Time goes by and Thor and Steve ‘date’ (though Tony doesn’t see how this is any different than what they were doing already). The two blondes are taking things slow, at least until the first sign of Steve’s estrus hits. As soon as Steve is flinching at bright lights and trying to rub the pain out from behind his right eyeball. 

Steve, however, is unimpressed with Thor’s sudden hovering. But he agrees readily enough when Thor insists on moving them to Asgard. He’s only regret is that he’s too sick to take in the beauty of the place. 

The days leading up are just as miserable as he remembers. He’s given a large airy room, a cool breeze blowing in from large floor length windows as he sweats and cramps. Thor brings him food and water, hovers at the edge of his consciousness when his head hurts too much, and massages his lower back. Despite his discomfort, the intimacy has been wonderful. But as the days pass and the cramps and hot flashes get worse, Steve wakes up to soft moonlight and hands much smaller than Thor’s on his brow. 

He blinks open his eyes surprised to see an older but still beautiful woman dipping a cloth in a dish of water even as she smiles down at him. It dawns on Steve that this is Thor’s mother who is wiping the sweat from his brow, the queen, and he makes an aborted attempt to sit up. 

“None of that now,” she says, her voice soothing in a way all mothers seem to have perfected. “Thor wanted to stay but he was becoming…agitated. And you are not yet ready dear.”

Steve is still parsing that out when a cramp has him biting his cheek and trying to curl into a ball. But even as he rides out the pain, he can feel the beginnings of arousal, an empty feeling, his every inch of skin so sensitive even the silky sheets feel like too much. But her hand still feels soothing. 

“Soon, dear. Very soon,” she whispers.  
*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&

When Steve wakes again, the sun is shining on his bed and he feels warm but not feverish. And he’s pinned by a heavy weight. But as he becomes more aware, he realizes the heavy weight is Thor, his scent like a warm fire at his back. 

Steve sighs when he feels a kiss to his shoulder and stretches under the attention to feel more of Thor’s naked skin against him for the first time. The need is building under his skin, soon to be painful in its intensity, but for now, he relishes every touch. As Thor kisses slowly over Steve’s shoulder and then down the knobs of his spine, Steve presses his forehead to the pillows and spreads his thighs, moaning softly at the feel of Thor on top of him, the heat of the other man’s body, the feel of soft skin and bristly facial hair, gentleness and restrained desperation. 

But when Thor is dipping between the mounds of his ass, Steve is frozen in anticipation of being touched for the first time. He’s so caught up in his feelings that he almost doesn’t hear what Thor is murmuring. 

“Yes, my sweet one, open up for me. Let me have you, beautiful, please. Please let me in,” Steve doesn’t hear the rest of the words as Thor’s tongue licks over his wet entrance. Steve’s whole body relaxes, the painful tension that was his first heat entirely forgotten in the face of this pleasure, of being taken care of this time.

Thor’s hands slip underneath Steve’s hips, the Asgardian’s strength pulling Steve up off the bed as he frantically licks up Steve’s slick, teasing the sensitive rim before plunging in deeper, igniting Steve’s need to be filled, a deep ache that has him undulating on his knees, riding Thor’s face. 

He’s beyond forming words, breathless and gasping, but he needs more, needs something else, something longer, thicker, pulsing inside him when suddenly Thor pulls back to bite at one plump porcelain cheek. 

“Please,” Thor is begging as much as Steve is and moves to cover Steve’s body fully again, sucking kisses into Steve’s shoulder and taut neck. “Please, you are so beautiful, so sweet, Steven, please, please, let me, let me, please…”

“Yes,” Steve breathes, his head thrown back against Thor’s shoulder, his back arched to thrust back against Thor’s dick dragging across his skin. “Yes.”

It feels powerful, that Thor, a beautiful god would be incoherent with need, for him. He doesn’t feel at all the powerlessness that was the first time. 

Finally, he feels Thor’s huge hands spreading his cheeks and then Thor’s length is pressing inside, that thick dick, splitting him open but sliding in so slowly, and he instinctively thrusts back, making them both groan. They’re both too desperate to find much of a rhythm. It’s hard and fast, shoving him down into the bedding, and it hits the spot perfectly like an itch Steve couldn’t scratch. Steve is crying out his pleasure with every thrust and Thor’s face is buried in Steve’s neck. Steve comes first and collapses, Thor thrusting  
harder before he too clenches in pleasure and follows Steve down. 

Steve rolls over to breathe better, still panting, and his arousal still like a warm thrum throughout his body. It’s barely been three minutes when Thor shifts over to put his head on Steve’s muscular chest, and then he’s mouthing at the nearest nipple, clumsily, obviously tired himself but unable to resist. Steve moans helplessly and automatically pushes his chest up, needing more already. 

And he thought he might die last time.


End file.
